Dennis' Poem

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Dennis' Poem

Post  Admin on Thu Jan 28, 2016 5:30 am

Dennis says:  "I am satisfied with this, but open to suggestion."

Sights of the Season

The clouds are gauze. 
Geese honk sad and long,
overhead, but out of sight.  
Dried leaves underfoot
answer from weary soles
along the garden path.
As vees wave goodbye
to another Autumn,
they drag the last of blue
from the skies and fade,
families leaving
on vacation.


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Post  Pat on Thu Jan 28, 2016 11:54 am

Okay, I like it.  Just flagging the following:   Geese are not in sight, but I like the long honks.   Dried leaves:  sights and sounds.  Now do you SEE the vees of geese?  I'm guessing, not. I stumbled over families leaving.  I played with leaving families, nope that changes meaning, bird families...., hmmmm.   Dennis, I don't know why I keep stumbling there.   Anyway, I like the poem and the images, but I wonder about the title:  Sightings?  I think there is more here than sightings.


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Capt Cutt

Post  tsukany on Thu Jan 28, 2016 3:07 pm


The title reveals sights and so too the poem.  I am not sure about stanza two.  Is it needed or in the wrong place?  It seems to be the stanza that has the least to do with geese.

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ights Of The Season

Post  Dewell H. Byrd on Fri Jan 29, 2016 1:14 pm

There's got to be a better title... but I don't know just what it is...
I love the families going on vacation idea of migration.
And I can almost smell the acrid smoke, autumn leaves burning... keep that stanza and can you drop a wayward feather or something to tie it into geese?

That call, geese honking, draws me toward something primitive in my gene pool... I hear it often in the morning with newspaper under my arm and a cup of hot chocolate in my hand,

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Re: Dennis' Poem

Post  Karen on Sun Jan 31, 2016 7:55 am

I agreed with Todd about stanza 2, but then I changed my mind.  The sound of the dried leaves underfoot answers the honk of the geese.  Can that be played up a bit?  I like weary soles for not being the weary souls we usually meet.

I stumbled as Pat did on the geese being out of sight, but seeing the vees waving goodbye.  Maybe you could nix the out of sight to prepare the way for the answering dried leaves in stanza 2.

Drag the last of blue from the skies ... I love that.

I do agree with Dewell and Todd on the title.  I gave it the Jim Barton Table of Contents test.  I would not turn to a poem with this title on opening a book of poetry.  Not immediately.

End of Season?


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